
Date of issue: 10.11.2012
Record label: Season of Mist
Song language: English
The Funerary Dirge of a Violinist |
Listen! |
Don’t you hear these mad symphonies of grievance and fear? |
Melancholy and despair can be sensed when we draw near. |
Some hear a violin sound, others hear a man moaning in tears. |
These fields are haunted by nature’s most sombre melodies. |
Suicidal white noise absorbing the essence from light, mirth and vitality. |
These grounds are haunted by reflections from World War II… |
Arise! |
1941, '42 |
The identity of warfare on the East Front is lugubrious. |
There’s one soldier incapable of committing sin. |
Kept alive by his comrades thanks to his heavenly gift with a violin. |
His brilliant music so beautiful and pure… |
Shining warmth upon every soldier… It helps them to endure. |
Breath-taking melodies consuming all hate, sorrow and fear. |
These magnificent tunes are like silk for their ears. |
And for a moment their pain disappears. |
But this moment will not last when they are baffled by another blast. |
The enemy is near. |
Rain of bullets killing soldiers there and here. |
And so the instrument of peace is being silenced by the one of war. |
It plays the music of the dead; |
music made of lead… |
«I've had enough of this sickening war and it’s murderous puppets! |
They don’t understand the language of music cannot be spoken in Death. |
I Never took a life! |
Maybe now is the time to take mine. |
In the name of music; |
shall I cut my wrists or hang myself high by a violin |
String? |
A symphonic suicide is what I shall bring!» |
The enemy lies on the other side of the field. |
He decides to walk straight into the fire fight, |
Playing this dreamlike masterpiece. |
Every soldier stops, holds his breath. |
Not a single shot is being heard during an intro for his own Death. |
And when the violin bow is being lowered at the end, |
Both sides simultaneously open fire. |
There’s the corpse of the violinist lying in mud and barbed wire. |
These fields are haunted by the funerary dirge of a violinist. |
The funerary dirge of a violinist… |
Can’t you hear his call of Death? |
Listen! |
Don’t you hear these mad symphonies of grievance and fear? |
Melancholy and despair can be sensed when we draw near. |
Some hear a violin sound… Others hear a man moaning in tears… |
The Funerary Dirge of a Violinist, |
The Funerary Dirge of a Violinist. |
The Funerary Dirge of a Violinist… |
The Funerary Dirge of a Violinist! |
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